Shadow Music
by eszabo1
Summary: On a lazy day at the Institute, anything can happen. Will Herondale shows Tessa how to play the piano and ends up exposing a part of him he never intended. Jem's violin brings Tessa into his room, where they become more than friends. One-shots, fluffiness
1. Will's Notes

AN- These one-shots are meant to be set sometime in Clockwork Angel, before anything romantic had come about between Tessa and Jem/Will. Nothing is happening at the Institute. Finally, don't judge! I know it's fluff, so if you don't like that, then don't read.

Enjoy!

Will sulked, sitting back against the dusty wall of the music room. Discordant notes filled the space, and he carefully watched Tessa's small form as her fingers stumbled over the keys. In front of her, he could see sheet music he had leant her. It was a beautiful piece, but the page was full of complicated patterns and Tessa could barely read music. Even though she had assured him that two years in the children's choir in New York had done the job, she was obviously struggling. Finally she smashed her hands on the keys in impatience, sending a waterfall of anger spiraling through the dusty air.

Will sighed and stood up, even though the whole point of him sitting against the wall was to do prevent exactly that. As he neared her, his heart gave an involuntary stutter, but he kept his expression clean of all emotion.

"Here," he said quietly, exhausted at holding himself back. He felt those wide, stormy gray eyes on him as he gently took her wrists and placed them so her fingers lined up with the right notes.

"You can play?" she asked curiously. He almost smiled. Tessa as always curious- if she was in a completely un eventful situation, she would still ask questions. "I mean, I thought the music was from Jem."

"Yes. Though I'm not quite as talented as you are," he said dryly. Then, despite his inner protests- _What, are you going to kill her too? Just like Ella? It's as good as murder!_ he put his hands on top of her small, pale ones. He glanced at the music and then made the first chord with her- his- left hand. "That's C, E, and G. You hold it out for the whole measure, so don't move your hand." He took his left hand away and leaned over a bit to get better hold of her right hand. He noticed very acutely that her breaths were shallow. He placed her middle finger on a black key, and then played the first rhythm. It was surprisingly lifting as he heard music, however simple, flow out of the piano. The last time he had played was in his first week at the Institute, wandering around the corridors. He had avoided playing ever since so that the memories wouldn't plague him.  
"Can you do that?" he asked patiently, taking his hand away.

"I'll try." She played the melody slowly, fixing her mistake as she played a wrong note.  
"So you have both hands now. Play them at once." Beneath the piano, he placed his foot on the pedal. Tessa played it perfectly, combining the two, the notes echoing in the body of the piano and resonating after she lifted her fingers from the keys.

"Will-" He finally looked at her when he said her name. Oh no, he thought. Her dark curls spiraling out of her bun looked so soft, and there was an unguardedness in her eyes that was dangerous. "Your hands are cold." She took his hands in hers, little shocks of warmth going up his arms, and tried to be very, very still while she traced his runes with one soft finger.

"Well, it is wintertime," he said a bit roughly. "Though there's not much change here in London."

"Will, can you do me a favor?" Tessa asked. Her warmth felt like a fire next to him, even though their shoulders were not touching.

"Anything." The word came out of his mouth before he could stop it. So was this what he was going to be like? Was it going to happen again?

"Can you play this for me?" He nodded, drawing his hands from hers. The absence of her touch was almost painful. Then he placed his hands on the keys, feeling the leftover warmth from her fingers, and played softly, staring at the music even though the song was ingrained in his mind. Where his fingers should go, how hard to press the keys, what chords were next.

Soon he was lost in the music, closing his eyes and letting the melody ring clear, his hands flying over a universe of black and white. The only thing he noticed was his bare arm brushing against Tessa's, causing him to fumble on a note, but quickly regaining power. He didn't just play; he spoke of his childhood, sitting at the piano studiously with those rolling green hills out the window, and the sound of his mother's laugh.

When he finished, he sat in a daze while the final notes ghosted throughout the room. Then he stood up very quickly. His fists were clenched and his head was spinning. He had lost control. His walls were down. And the way Tessa was looking at him might as well be her demise.

He didn't flee, however. His muscles seemed frozen in place. "That was beautiful, Will." He avoided her awe-full gaze. He saw her bite her lip out of the corner of his eyes. "No, that was more than beautiful. That was... Exquisite. Where did you learn to play like that? Maybe you could teach me." The last sentence sounded hopeful, and he prayed to Raziel that it was in awe of his playing. Not a personal wish.

"I took lessons when I lived in the country," he said a bit sharply. But as he looked down his tone grew warmer. "My parents were very strict about it, saying I needed to learn 'traditional' arts. But I was still very eager to practice." He left her request unanswered.  
"How come I haven't heard you play here?" He stared at her hard, wishing he could stop his hand from coming up and stroking her cheek softly.

"My utter lack of talent." He tried a joke, but he wasn't into it. "There are some things I don't do, Tess, and some things I do for you." His fingernails making half moons into his palms, he left the piano and strode across the room. Tessa watched as the door shut softly in his wake.

Will prayed for Tessa to forget the incident, prayed for her to forget the care in which he placed her fingers on the keyboard and the passion he had put into performing. From an outsider, it had seemed she had, but on some sleepless nights (which were most, to be fair) he heard the soft notes of the piano, trying again and again to master the notes into which he put his soul.


	2. Jem's Sonata

AN- Here is Jem's oneshot! I wanted to give him some glory. This is also in Clockwork Angel, before their first kiss. I thought that if Jem and Tessa had their first kiss in Clockwork Angel this would be it. Enjoy!

Jem lay in bed, feeling Will's absence like a hole in his heart. His parabatai's bed was empty, as usual, empty yet full of secrets. The boys both knew that the stories conjured up by Will- stories of scandal and drunkedness- were a cover. It just saddened Jem that Will did not trust him with his secrets, when he had put all of his trust in him.  
He saw a glint of something reflecting in the moonlight, shiny black, and sighed as he stood up. His violin case had a certain pull to it, a pull which he battled almost every sleepless night, a pull to which he could not resist.  
He gently opened the clasps of the case and pulled the lid open. Inside, ethereal in the white light of the moon, sat his cherry violin, the image of perfection. He picked it up, taking a moment to cherish the soft, light feel of the instrument in his hands, before bringing it up to his shoulder. He then picked up the bow, not even having to look for his fingers to find the right grip, and let one soulful note ring through the night as the bowstrings slid across the string.  
He played a scale, just for the fun of it, and then mixed up all of the notes and played it again. Then he added accidentals and played the whole thing in a mismatch of beauty. It was the way he warmed up every time, and every time the notes which rang in the room were different.  
Then he started his song quietly. It was a song he had written about Tessa which had burst into his head the night they had walked along the bridge a few days ago. He had titled it Moonlight, for her eyes had the soft light of the moon. It had a quick, low beginning, flying up and then going back and forth two notes. He let them echo for a moment before diving into the chorus.  
He played her stormy eyes, her dark curls, her heart-stopping laugh. He crescendoed into the tremble his fingers got when she was close, and the endless attraction he had caused her. He played his sadness, sadness because she didn't seem to return his attentions. And, though he didn't admit it to himself, raw jealousy at the way Tessa stared at Will, the heat that was brought into her cheeks when the boy merely glanced at her.  
The last note he held out, his finger moving up and down like a heartbeat, giving it vibrato. Then he started at the pale figure in the door. It was Tessa, watching with wide eyes, her silky nightgown wrapped around her. He thought he saw a tear on her cheek before she wiped it away with the sleeve of her gown.  
"Tessa. I did not mean to wake you," he said, though allowing himself a smile which seemed to surface on his lips whenever she was around.  
"Jem, I was already awake. It's perfectly fine. I love listening to you play." She came over and leaned against the bedpost.  
He inclined his head. "I love playing. What was keeping you up?" he said with concern. She shrugged, her hair moving like a dark ocean.  
"Just... Thoughts. I couldn't seem to stop thinking. But your music made me stop. Thinking, that is."  
"I'm having the same trouble. After I play, though, I always get to sleep. It's like magic for me." Tess nodded, eyes turning eagerly to his violin.  
"What were you playing, just now? It was like music from heaven." He bowed his head in modesty.  
"It's a piece I composed, called Moonlight. I'm glad you like it." She paused, then bit her lip.  
"I've always wanted to try violin... Do you think you could teach me how to play a note? It might help me relax."  
"Of course," he said. "Come over here." She stepped to his side, her breath audible. Jem wondered if she could hear his heartbeat, pounding like a drum. He placed the violin under her chin, balanced on her left shoulder. Then he took her left hand, warm and small, and held it under the neck. "Keep your hand there." He came over to her right side and held her hand in his. "Now I'll place your fingers on the bow." Her fingers were limp, and he quickly arranged them; thumb on the end, middle three fingers over the frog, pinky on top. He then put his hand over hers on the bow, completely covering it.  
Time seemed to stop as he stood behind her, so close that he could feel her warmth. Her hair smelled of lavender, fresh and innocent. But then, as his face dipped closer, he caught another scent; one of sharp lightning, seductively sweet, that seemed to lie beneath the soft layer of her skin. He had smelled it before, in the presence of faeries and warlocks- magic. Pure magic.  
He could barely stop himself from making her drop the violin and wrapping her in his arms, to taste the same scent on her lips. But, with a shaky arm, he slid the bow across the D string.  
"What is that note?" she asked curiously.  
"D. It's the most common note. You can press down your fingers at different lengths to get higher notes, but this is open." His voice was rough, yet patient. He took the bow, raising her arm, and played long strokes of every open string.  
"Can I try?" He wordlessly dropped his hands, and she played each note, fixing the bow's angle when she played two at a time.  
"Perfect," Jem said, not moving from his current position. "You're a natural, Tess."  
"Jem?" she asked. His breath came faster, as it did whenever she said his name. She made it sound special, like the word for "angel" in a lost language.  
"Tessa." He felt her lean back, and he savored the feel of her weight against his.  
"Where did you get the inspiration for Moonlight?" He took a deep breath, his mind reeling. He could say the moon rising on the Thames. He could say the night sky. He could say his parents, long lost. But he knew that this was the moment to tell the truth.  
"A girl," he answered steadily. She turned and looked at him, a confused expression on her face. Her arms brought the violin and bow down to her side.  
"What girl? Is it a girl from Shanghai?" He gazed steadily down at her.  
"No, it's a girl here in London. She is beautiful, so beautiful, even though she doesn't know it. She loves to read, and asks questions all of the time, as it she can't get enough answers."  
"Oh," Tessa said, her face falling. Then she smiled a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "So are you two... courting?"  
"No, we're just friends. But I'm not quite sure if she returns my affections." Her eyes flicked across his face, concerned, the way they did when she was checking his state of health. Except now it was to read his expression.

"What's her name?" she said, giving a half smile. Jem swallowed and glanced down at her lips before he could help it.  
"Theresa Gray," he whispered strongly. And then he bent his head down, holding her gently on the shoulders, and placed a whisper of a kiss on her lips. He gripped her shoulders harder than he needed to, to keep himself from going too far, but was amazed when she tilted her head up to return the kiss. Her lips were soft, and he smiled against them. "Tessa Gray," he breathed, smelling fire on her skin. In his veins ran electricity. "I love you."


	3. Henry's Music Box

Henry was up late working in the crypt, the oil lamp flickering and casting strange shadows on the table. His hands were brushed with oil, but his fingers deftly worked at the small contraption, screwing things in and winding parts. As he worked he didn't have the aura of extreme concentration as he normally did, but a smile gracing his face and his fingers put the final piece in place, and marveled at how all of the parts fit together- each doing its own job, and all working together to create magic.  
Then the door swung open, and Henry started. He squinted into the darkness, trying to see who had disturbed his work. "Sophie? Is that you?" But then Charlotte stepped from the shadows, her face lively and tendrils of hair falling from her chignon. Henry grabbed the box and put it behind his back, hands wrapped around it.  
"Henry? What are you hiding?"  
"Erm..." Henry said awkwardly. "A present of some sort." Charlotte's eyes lit up, and she placed a hand on her hip.  
"Well, dead, I was just coming to get you to bed. We have a party to go to in the morning," Charlotte reminded him.  
"Your birthday party," Henry stated emphatically. He held her gaze strongly for once and stood up from his seat. "I was going to give you your present then, but would you like it now?"  
Charlotte let a smile grace her features. "Well, it is past midnight," she said softly. "I hope you didn't go to too much work." So then Henry brought the present out from behind his back and held it out to her.  
It was a lovely little box, made of sleek bronze and black metal trimming. It was the size of Henry's palm, and had the engraving CMB in beautiful swirling script on the lid. Henry held it out to his wife, who took it wonderingly into her hands. Henry came around to her side and turned it over in her small fingers, twisting a knob so that it was winded. The it began to play music.  
The music only consisted of small notes, but they all flowed so gracefully into one another that Charlotte's eyes went wide. "Oh, Henry-" she exclaimed, but he soon shushed her. It reached the main part of the song, and sounds of other textures joined the sweet Melody, sounds that had reminded Henry of a cello and violin. He remembered using spare bits of wire with coating to create that effect, and was now pleased to see Charlotte's eyes filling with joyful tears. Henry smiled, amazed at his wife's reaction, and took her in his arms. She hugged him tight, the box pressed against his back, as it slowly died out, the last bits of music echoing.  
Henry smoothed her hair back then took her gently by the shoulders. Smudges of oil came off on her dress, but she didn't seem to mind. "Lottie, dear, I'm so sorry I've not been the best of husband you could imagine." He let his face show his sadness, and Charlotte watched with dismay as the lines in his normally lively face sank deep. "I'm not even a proper head of the institute, nonetheless our relationship." Charlotte, for once, was silent. "But I want to tell you something I haven't told you in a while. I love you." The last but he whispered softly into her hair, and her hands came around to grip his shoulders.  
Now this time she was really crying. "Henry, it's not just been you. I've done my fair share of damage," she said, looking at the ground. You- you don't really know how much you've done for me, though." Henry looked up, surprised. "I love you too, dear, more than the stars and the moon combined, more than all of the demon universes in this ghastly world." She held the precious music box in her hand, meeting his eyes with a lovely expression. Henry gave her a sweet smile, so sweet that she was reminded of the first time she laid eyes on him- he looked happy, hopeful, and had puppy like youthfulness in his handsome face. She stood on her very tiptoes and gave him a kiss, and he took her by the arm.  
"Shall we retire to bed?" He said, not able to tear his eyes away from her.  
"Yes." And together they walked up the staircase, arm in arm, and slept in peace knowing that the music box would always hold the memory of their love.


End file.
